(Skin Deep) Chapter 3: Out/Initials (3/10)

[keeper_of_stars]

Title: Skin Deep
Part: Chapter 3: Out/Initials
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Kurt/OMC, OFC, OMC and appearances by the glee kids.
Author’s Note: This fic takes place both in the future and past.
- I know there are tons of spoilers out for the upcoming episodes. Please don’t post them in the comments.
Warning: Everything that has aired is considered fair game. There are spoilers if you haven’t seen through “Original Song.”
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Seven years after graduation, Puck learns there are some wounds that are more than skin deep.

Skin Deep:


Skin DeepChapter 3: Out/Initials
In which it was totally worth it…

“Alright, Puck.” Mr. Schuester clapped his hands together and looked expectantly from Puck to Kurt. The ridiculous sight caused Puck to roll his eyes. “What’s this big announcement you two want to make?”

Filled with jittery excitement, Puck elbowed Kurt before jumping out of the plastic choir room chair. “Thanks, Mr. Schue.” In three steps, he bounded to the front of the room. As Puck turned to face everyone, Schuester moved over to lean on the piano.

As discussed (at length) the night before, Kurt had come to stand next to him. His hands were folded primly in front of himself. And even though they weren’t touching, Puck could feel his charged excitement.

Kurt smiled at him nervously, and Puck thought about leaning over and nipping playfully at his earlobe (one of the places teeth hadn’t been outlawed). But he didn’t. Because even though he was pretty sure Kurt would smack him if he did, it wasn’t time for that. Up till now, public displays of anything but animosity had been strictly forbidden.

But not for very much longer….

“Ok….” Puck shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out at the rest of the glee club. They were all staring at him expectantly. Rachel, as always, looked as if whatever was about to be said was for her and her alone. Finn’s expression was mildly curious, and Mercedes looked like she was going to kill someone if he didn’t spill soon.

“We….” For the first time since deciding to do this, Puck felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. Swallowing deeply, he turned to his boyfriend. “I….”

Instead of staring at their audience, Kurt’s calm gaze was trained on him, a small smile on his face. It was slight but just enough to encourage him. And when Puck looked back to the waiting group once again, he decided to employ an old trick….

Where once sat a group of kids in denim, cotton, and who knew what else, there was now a sea of panties, slips, and boxers.

And he knew then, without a doubt, that he had this.

“Just wanted to let you guys know that Kurt and I are doing the nasty.” Puck smirked wickedly when he heard Kurt gasp next to him, “We’ve been getting down,” he drew out the word, relishing the labored huffing coming from the boy next to him. “And dirty for a while now. And we wanted you guys to be the first to know.”

As his news sunk in, Santana laughed hysterically while Mike passed Artie a five dollar bill. Tina and Mercedes looked as if this was the sweetest thing they’d ever heard. Rachel and Finn, however, were wearing similar looks of confusion.

But, as great as those reactions were, Kurt’s was the best. By now, Kurt’s gasping had subsided, but his chest was still heaving. And his face was a bright red mask of scandalized horror that made Puck want to burst out laughing.

Even as he stood there, Puck knew that Kurt was plotting his revenge. But Puck didn’t care, couldn’t care.

They were out.

Finally out.

But even though they’d only told the glee club, Puck was positive that the whole school would know by the end of the day. Because when it came to juicy gossip, Rachel couldn’t keep her mouth shut. And that was to say nothing of Santana.

That didn’t matter to him though. All that mattered was that now they were free to acknowledge each other in the halls and hold hands (not that that was his favorite thing to do in the world but whatever) if they wanted.

And ok… Kurt probably wouldn’t want to speak to him again, let alone touch him, because of what he’d just done. After all, he’d completely thrown out the speech Kurt had come up with, a speech that he’d labored over for hours. But to be fair though, Kurt should have known better than to trust him with this. Because really, him reciting a prepared speech? That was never going to happen. So really, this was all Kurt’s fault. But even though Kurt was probably mad at him, just knowing that they wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore…

Not to mention the horrified look on Kurt’s face…

Puck knew it was totally worth it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
In which initials are bad luck…

As the marker slid over Kurt’s hip, forming the simple design, Puck focused on Kurt. Under his left hand, Puck could feel the muscles clenching and unclenching in Kurt’s side. And even though that could have been anything, somehow Puck knew it was his nerves getting the best of him. Because of that, he knew without a doubt that however calm Kurt was acting, he was anything but.

Gently, Puck tightened his grip on Kurt’s waist as he continued to draw out the design. The change in pressure was slight, but now Puck felt like he was holding onto Kurt rather than just bracing him. It was so wonderful, so familiar that he had to stop himself from tightening his fingers even more.

Once he finished the heart, Puck moved his hands a little so that he could draw out the “K.” As his hand slid over Kurt’s exposed skin, Puck heard him gasp softly. And before he could stop himself, his eyes flickered up to Kurt.

Kurt was staring at him, his blue eyes wide and his lips pressed together in shame. Even though Puck’s gaze was locked on Kurt, he could see that Biff was still hovering over him. But he didn’t seem to have noticed what had happened. Instead, he seemed to be distracted by biting the tips of Kurt’s fingers playfully. The sight caused Puck’s mouth to go dry almost instantly.

Honestly, Puck had seen worse in the shop and had had to deal with worse while working. And while the smug expression on Biff’s (obviously fake) tan face clearly said that the gasp had been for him, Puck knew different. Because Kurt’s eyes were locked on his, and for that moment, nothing and no one else mattered.

They were once again seventeen years old with their whole lives and the whole world ahead of them. Anything and everything was possible, and Puck wanted it all.

“So how’s it coming?” Biff’s voice, slightly giddy, quickly broke through the bubble that had engulfed Puck and Kurt. It was so abrupt and shocking that Puck was sure he’d heard a balloon popping in the distance.

“Uh….” Puck tore his eyes off of Kurt’s and looked back down to where he’d been drawing. With two simple strokes of the sharpie over Kurt’s skin, Puck drew on the initial. “Done.”

Reluctantly, Puck pulled his hands away, immediately regretting the loss of contact. Turning back to the counter he shoved the cap back on the marker and threw it next to his other pens. And grabbing the small, hand-held mirror, he spun back to Kurt and Biff.

Kurt’s hands were now placed protectively over his skin. In the time Puck had turned away, Biff had moved closer to Kurt (if that was possible). He was staring down at Kurt possessively, a disgusting hunger in his eyes. The look of greed on his pointed face was enough to make Puck’s skin crawl, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Kurt put up with it. Kurt, after all, was not one to put up with jealous, possessive guys. (He’d learned that first hand after pressing for information about Blaine.)

“Here you go.” Puck held the mirror out to Kurt who took it from him. “Everything look good?”

Puck watched as Kurt held up the mirror and examined the drawing on his hip. Angling the mirror this way and that, he nodded in approval. “Yes. That’s fi-”

“Ba….” Kurt shot Biff a dirty look and his voice trailed off halfway through the word. The sight was so comical that Puck had to swallow a laugh. “Honey.” Biff’s voice was sugary sweet, and Puck found himself rolling his eyes along with Kurt. (Though, not as noticeably.) “You should have it be K and B! You know… for us.” Biff nodded as if this was the best idea in the world. And Puck wondered, not for the first time that night, how much the blonde had had to drink or if he was always this irritating.

“I, uh….” Puck watched as Kurt’s eyes widened into horrified saucers, and once again, he found himself fighting back the urge to laugh. “Umh….” Kurt angled the mirror again, clearly buying for time.

“It would look great!” The pure enthusiasm in Biff’s voice was so earnest that Puck could barely stand it.

Puck prayed that Kurt didn’t give in because of it.

“Oh… I….” Kurt closed his eyes and opened them again, like he was hoping the idea might magically disappear. Which, truth be told, really amused Puck.

Until Kurt’s horrified eyes met his that was.

“Isn’t… isn’t it bad luck to have your significant other’s named tattooed on you? Or something like that?” His gaze was desperate, and the subtle note of pleading in his voice cut straight to Puck’s heart.

Kurt wanted his help. And he couldn’t say no.

“Uh, yeah.” The lie came out easily, and from the crestfallen look on Biff’s face, he’d believed it.

Honestly, Puck had no clue if certain tattoo types were supposed to be bad luck or not. Sure, he’d heard a few things here and there, but he never really paid attention to them. He’d never been big on superstitions.

All he knew was that the look of relief and gratitude on Kurt’s face made the lie worthwhile.

“Oh.” Biff sounded totally deflated, and Puck prayed that that was simply a byproduct of the alcohol coursing through his veins. Because if this was how Biff always acted, if he really was that easily swayed, Puck couldn’t understand how Kurt would be able to stand him.

Granted, Puck understood that he hadn’t exactly been a genius when he was in high school either. But at least he hadn’t been so quick to believe everything he was told. (Finn’s prostate lie? Yeah, he’d totally Googled that.)

“Well then -” Puck met Kurt’s eyes again. When he saw the look of relief on Kurt’s face, he had to bite back a grin. “Now that that’s settled…. Are you happy with it? Size, placement, and everything?”

Kurt nodded as he passed the mirror back to Puck. As he handed it to him, Puck’s fingers accidentally brushed over Kurt’s. The touch, though barely there, caused a jolt of forgotten longing to flash through Puck’s stomach.

Desperate to escape the feelings creeping into his body, Puck spun his stool away from Kurt again. Trying to calm himself down, he placed the small mirror on the counter next to the Sharpie. And picking up the black ink, he spun back to Kurt. Not daring to look at him, Puck focused more attention than was necessary on picking up his needle.

Before turning on the machine, he took a deep breath. It didn’t really do much to calm his nerves, but he felt better for trying.

The needle buzzing in his hand, Puck slouched on the stool. “So, have you done this before?” He looked at Kurt, waiting for an answer. He figured the answer would be no, but he had to ask anyway.

Kurt opened his mouth and closed it again, uncertainty crossing his pale face. The look confused Puck, and he found himself eyeing Kurt, wondering if it was possible that he’d done this before.

When Kurt hesitated to answer the question, Biff spoke up. And Puck found that he was desperate to know the answer. “Yeah, Kurt has another tattoo. On his -”

“Biff.” Kurt hissed the name, his face a mask of irritation that only made Puck more curious.

Biff, however, didn’t seem to notice Kurt’s warning.

“Shoulder.” Puck watched with rapt attention as Biff’s eyebrows furrowed, an odd look of drunken confusion twisting his features. The expression made him look like a pitiful puppy dog. “It’s some weird song lyrics. But they’re a mess. It looks -”

“Biff!” Kurt’s voice was ice cold now, and Puck felt like he’d been chastised along with Biff.

But that wasn’t enough to distract Puck from what Biff had just said though.

Kurt had song lyrics tattooed on his shoulder. Ones that weren’t very neat. And even though Puck knew better, he couldn’t himself from wondering… no, hoping that those were the same words he’d written on the night they’d graduated.

Puck knew it was impossible.

There was no way Kurt would have had some late night scribbling permanently etched into his perfect skin when he was eighteen. But even though he knew that, Puck was desperate to slide down the neck of Kurt’s t-shirt. He wanted to see if the words, in his handwriting, were still there, a permanent reminder of the time they’d spent together.

However, Puck knew he couldn’t look or even ask what the words were. Because, as unprofessional as that would be… he didn’t know how he would react to what he might find there.

“What?” Biff stared at Kurt, confusion filling his question. “He asked if -”

“Ok….” Puck quickly interrupted, worried about how Kurt might react to Biff. “It’s just a standard question. I needed to know if you knew what to expect. Pain wise.” He opened the ink, trying not to stare at either Biff or Kurt.

“Well, I do.” Kurt shot Biff an angry look before turning back to Puck. “Can we do this now? Please?” Puck sat up straight as Kurt angrily pushed at the open flaps of his pants, exposing more of his stomach and hips.

Not daring to say anything, Puck dipped the tip of the needle into the open ink. The sooner Kurt was out of his chair, the better.

All he wanted was for the night to be over so he could go home and try to forget that Kurt and his idiot of a boyfriend ever walked through the doors of Skin Deep. He didn’t know if it was just shock at seeing Kurt after seven years. Or if he was just angry that Kurt hadn’t shown up in Lima. But either way, Puck wanted him gone.

Leaning forward, Puck was just about to press the vibrating needle into Kurt’s skin when Biff’s voice froze him.

“What’s your arm say?” Puck looked up to see Biff staring at his right forearm. And as his glazed eyes roved over the exposed skin, he wished he’d worn long sleeves.

That tattoo, despite its location, was private.

It was his reminder.

His past.

But as Biff and now Kurt stared at him, Puck realized that he had to answer. “Song lyrics.” He knew that that didn’t really answer the question, but that was all Puck was willing to give.

Not bothering to wait for a response, he dropped his eyes to the drawing on Kurt’s waist.

As he tried to decide where to start, he thought about the words on his arm. His first tattoo, the mark had been a reminder of who he’d been and who he’d become. It said in simple black script, “Sweetly, turn the pages on always.”

It was a deeply personal message, one that he didn’t want Biff or Kurt, especially Kurt, to read.

Hoping that neither of them asked anymore questions, Puck pressed the buzzing needle into the tip of the K.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
As Puck’s foot finally found the fourth floor landing, he groaned in relief.

When he’d first moved in, the fact that the five story building didn’t have an elevator hadn’t bothered Puck. After all, his place was on the fourth floor, and that wasn’t really all that much of a hike. And for the most part, it hadn’t been an issue. But there were those nights when he wasn’t feeling well or was drunk or exhausted. And those nights… those nights he’d hated the old buildings lack of mechanics so much he’d been tempted to curl up on one of the landings and just sleep there.

Tonight was one of those nights.

After Kurt and Biff had left the shop, Puck had had to take two more customers before Skin Deep finally had closed at two am. Normally, the late hours didn’t bother Puck, but after seeing Kurt… he’d been so worked up during the appointment that the minutes and hours after Kurt had left had worn him down instantly.

Now, at three am, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a month.

Which was exactly what he planned to do.

Heading towards his apartment, Puck rubbed at his eyes, now bleary from exhaustion. There were only a few more feet, and he would finally be home, safely tucked away in his own world. He couldn’t wait to walk through the door, drop everything on the living room floor and fall into bed….

But just as Puck stuck the key in his door, his neighbor poked her head out of hers. “Heya, Noah.” Sighing to himself, Puck cursed under his breath. “Late night, huh?”

“Yeah, Meena.” Trying to hide his frustration, he turned towards his neighbor. But when he saw her, his frustration quickly turned to bemusement.

Meena’s waist length, electric blue hair was loose and sopping wet, little droplets of water falling around the quacking duck slippers on her feet. She was wearing a short, bright pink robe that was covered in fluffy orange, purple, and blue flowers and went to the middle of her thighs. In her hands was a mug covered in crazy looking, multi-colored owls, and it was filled with what looked like lemonade.

And not for the first (or last) time, Puck thought that she looked like a box of melted crayons that had all run together.

She was the same age as Puck, and she’d already been living in the building for a few years when Puck had moved in. A few years ago, they’d gone out on a few dates but had quickly decided that they were better off as friends. There was something about her, some strange thing that Puck couldn’t quite put his finger on. And because of that, he hadn’t felt comfortable in a relationship with her.

“You know….” She shifted her balance to lean on the door frame, causing one of the duck slippers to quack. “I hate to say it, sweetie, but you look terrible. Kind of like that dead rat Max -”

“Yeah, I get it Meen.” Puck cringed at the mental image. He figured that he looked pretty rough after the night he’d had. But being compared to a long dead rat? Yeah, that sucked. “Thanks.”

Instead of talking to her, Puck really just wanted to say goodnight and fall into bed. But she helped him out a lot so he felt liked he owed her five minutes of conversation. “You look….” He eyed her, searching for something to say other than bright or colorful. “Awake.” It really was the best he could come up with.

Still leaning on the doorframe, Meena snorted into her mug. “I’m on early at the bakery this morning. It’s my turn to bake the apple-cranberry muffins.” She took a sip of the juice, and Puck noticed the deep purple lip gloss print she left behind.

At the mention of food, Puck’s stomach rumbled, causing Meena to laugh. “I’ll make sure to bring you and your grumbly tumbly some home.” She nodded as if the promise of baked goods was a solemn matter. And despite himself, Puck laughed.

“Thanks.” Deciding that he’d spent enough time with his neighbor, Puck turned back to his door. But before turning the key, he turned back to Meena. “Oh, did you -”

“I took Max out a little while ago. So he should be fine until morning.” She went to take another sip of her drink but stopped. “And I watered your plant. It was starting to droop again.” Puck tried to act ashamed as she eyed him pointedly.

A wave of relief and appreciation washed over Puck as he thought about his dog not having to go out. Because if he’d had to go back down the steps and parade up and down the sidewalk until Max finished his business… Puck really would have called it a night on one of the landings. “Thanks, Meen. You are -”

“An amazing blue-haired goddess who has finally earned a tattoo from your firm but tender hands?” The question came out in one breathy, hopeful rush. When she finished, she stared at him, expectantly.

“Amazing blue-haired goddess? Yes.” He smiled brilliantly (or as brilliantly as he possibly could), and she did a little royal pose. “Tattoo….” When he said the word, her eyes lit up. “You ready to tell me what you’re hiding?” The first time they’d met, he could tell that there was some long-buried secret within her. And because of that, he couldn’t bring himself to tattoo her unless she opened up about it.

Unfortunately, for both of them, she never had.

“Nope.” Meena tried to keep her voice bright and jovial but failed.

“Well then….” Puck pushed his apartment door open. “Night.”

He was about to (finally) walk through when Meena called to him again. “Hey, Noah….”

Put out, he turned back to glare at her.

“Are you ok?” She dropped her green eyes to the mug before looking back up. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Without answering, Puck walked into his apartment and shut the door behind him.

Chapter 4: Decisions/Infected

Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes
- The lyrics that Puck has tattooed on his arm are from the gorgeous Weezer song Always.
- If you’re curious, this is what Meena’s mug looks like. :P
- Thank you all so much for your support. It means more than I can say.
- Quack: Beta of betas. It doesn’t get more awesome than you. :duck:
- Reviews are love.

Skin Deep
Chapter 1: Promises/Seven Years
Chapter 2: Acceptance/Inked